Twilight

In the abandoned garden, now the greedy moss

Fights with the ivy for every nook and cranny,

And in the sparse cluster of cypresses,

Sleeping in the womb of ancient peace

Lies Pan. On the vast marble statue,

Wrapped with morning-glory flowers,

Perhaps someday with a gentle song

A nymph might bend over her lovely figure.

God of the earth, joyful force!

You have become too serious in your old age:

Your fountain is dry forever.

The day dies, and through the vast restless shade

A song of happiness trembles and saddens:

Long blue shadows descend from the mountains.